


Crimson and Clover

by ZuviosGemini



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Mental Hospital, Mental Illness, abuse of patients
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-06
Updated: 2013-04-05
Packaged: 2017-11-23 21:28:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/626703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZuviosGemini/pseuds/ZuviosGemini
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo Baggins is a retired trauma doctor living in the major mountain city of Erebor. One day he gets a call from Gandalf Greyhame, his old friend who runs the city's mental institution, asking for his help with a patient. Bilbo doesn't know what to expect, but the dwarf with stormy grey-blue eyes definitely isn't it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is still Middle Earth, just made more modern with a few changes to the original design. Those changes will be made more apparent as the story goes on. Of course, feel free to ask questions if you don't understand. You can ask those here at my Tumblr: http://zuviosgemini.tumblr.com/

It was a Wednesday morning and Bilbo Baggins was getting ready for his day. He gave his short blonde hair a quick finger combing in the mirror. As always, it stood up a little bit on the top. He didn’t bother to try and fix it because he knew it was a lost cause. He put on a collared shirt and some nice jeans, sliding on a blazer jacket on top, grabbed his favorite shoes, and headed down the hall to the kitchen for some coffee. Normally he would then make some toast with butter and jam and read the paper, maybe have another cup of coffee before heading out to do errands.

Except today wasn’t a typical Wednesday at all. Not really, for Bilbo was headed to a special meeting.

Two days ago, he had received a phone call from his good friend the wizard, Doctor Gandalf Greyhame. Gandalf was the head of the Erebor Mental Institution and had asked him for help with a particularly troubled patient.

“I know you’re retired but I really believe that you can be of help to him.” Gandalf had said. His tone of voice had implied that he knew Bilbo couldn’t refuse. The hobbit had sighed but ultimately had agreed to meet said-patient.

“We’ll just have to see what happens.” He had said before hanging up.

Bilbo had known that he wanted to be a doctor since he was a small hobbit living in Hobbiton. He made his way through school (quickly) and soon moved to the big city of Erebor to begin his career as a hobbit doctor. The people in the city hadn’t taken him seriously at first, which was understandable since he still had his boy haircut. (When male hobbits reach the age of 30, they cut their hair short as a rite of passage.)

Bilbo had arrived in Erebor when he was 20, so the first 10 years of his career were mostly spent proving his worth. By the time he retired at the age of 42, he was a well-known, certified, multi-racial doctor, having treated hobbits, dwarves, elves, men, and wizards alike for a myriad of problems.

That was three years ago. Now 45 years old, Bilbo wasn’t exactly eager to get back to being a doctor, not to mention he didn’t have a lot of experience with mental patients. He was more of a scalpel-and-stitches kind of chap, better at dealing with emergencies that involved a lot of blood and gore. It was an odd occupation for a hobbit, even in the modern age since it was so fast-paced and stressful. Back in the time of the ancients, if a hobbit had said they wanted to be a doctor, or a healer, they would have been treated with suspicion and people would have whispered behind their backs.

Bilbo was the first doctor in his family, and he was also the first to move to the major mountain cities. Most of his relatives and friends had never been outside the rural Shire district, save Gandalf, and that was fine. Bilbo could definitely say that the mountains weren’t for everyone. It was mostly dwarves and high elves, with some wizards and even men mixed in; there weren’t a whole lot of hobbits around. Bilbo felt a little out of sorts at times, but after a few years, he got used to it. In fact, he could say he even enjoyed it.

The hobbit glanced at the clock, eating the last of his toast and draining his cup of coffee. His appointment was in an hour. It wasn’t a long trip to the hospital but he wanted to get there early, and his pony was always such a pain to get moving in the morning. She liked sleeping in more than he did to be honest. Stubborn thing. She was lucky that Bilbo loved her so much.

Grabbing his phone off the charger as well as his keys off the table, Bilbo wandered outside and around the back of his apartment, smiling at the sight that greeted him. His pretty brown pony was leaning against the back wall of her stable, her eyes closed and her sides heaving slowly from the deep sleep she was in presently. He hated to wake her but alas, he had a schedule to keep.

He didn’t plan to ride her to the hospital of course. He just wanted her awake so he could feed her before he left. The roads in the cities weren’t made for ponies and horses. They were made of hard stone upon which automobiles were driven.

The dwarves and the elves got on much better now than they used to centuries back, and the more brilliant minds of both races had invented these fantastic machines used for transportation many decades ago. The science came from the elves and the craftsmanship came from the dwarves. The automobiles ran on natural minerals from the earth and proved to be faster than any full-sized horse.

When Bilbo had arrived in the city, he didn’t know what to make of the large metal machines that people were riding around in, nor did he know what he would do with his pony Barunim, since she obviously wouldn’t be used for riding anymore. Automobiles were used strictly in the cities, so of course Bilbo had never seen one up close before his big move to Erebor. In the end, he kept his pony with him, taking her into the country occasionally to keep her happy and in shape.

Despite seeing and using the many different kinds of automobiles almost every day (‘cabs’ and ‘buses’, and sometimes even a ‘train’ to see his family when he didn’t bring Barunim), Bilbo still couldn’t help but be fascinated by them.

“Hey sleepy head.” He called softly, entering the pony’s stable and patting her white striped nose. She stirred but didn’t open her eyes, making a tiny irritated sound. He chuckled.

“Come now Barunim, I’ve got somewhere to be, remember? Get up.”

Another noise of protest. Bilbo stood back with his fists on his hips.

“What if I were to give you some apples for your troubles.”

That got Barunim’s attention quickly. Her big brown eyes opened and she nickered at him, nosing at Bilbo’s face and neck, making him laugh.

“I thought so.” He laughed, going to the cooling unit that he kept outside and pulling some apples from it, putting them in the pony’s feeding bin, patting her head as she began munching away happily.

“I’ll be back later today. I’ll take you to the country this weekend I promise. We’ll run around for a bit. You know, stretch our legs and get some fresh air. Sound good?”

Barunim didn’t make any noise to show that she was listening so Bilbo ruffled her mane and after checking her water and hay, locked the stable and made his way back onto the street. He hailed a cab and directed the driver to the hospital.

The ride over was spent looking out the window and watching the city wake up. The tall dark buildings towered over the streets, making long shadows grow and shrink as the sun rose. The great eagles that lived at the top of the city were already flying overhead, becoming huge black shapes in the orange and gold sky. There were some people of all races milling about on the sidewalks, heading to work or simply wanting to beat the traffic that was sure to come.

The cab pulled up to the front of the hospital, letting Bilbo out at the main entrance. The huge spire of the mental institution seemed to reach into the very clouds as Bilbo looked up at it. It was one of the tallest buildings in the city for whatever reason. No one was really sure as to why. They could only assume it was because Gandalf ran it. He always liked things to be larger than life.

The hobbit had to stop once he was inside to get his bearings, the full feeling of ‘hospital’ hitting him in an odd way. It wasn’t quite nostalgic, nor was it painful. It was like the sort of unease you feel when you make accidental eye contact with a stranger more than once. It just doesn’t sit right in your mind but you try and not think about it.

“Excuse me, can I help you?”

Bilbo turned and smiled at the receptionist, a youthful elf with dark hair and blue eyes.

“Yes I’m here to see Gandalf, err I’m sorry, I mean Doctor Greyhame.”

The elf opened a large book on the desk and flipped through the pages.

“Name please?”

“Uh Baggins. Bilbo Baggins?”

The elf looked up in surprise, making Bilbo lift an eyebrow.

“Oh, Doctor Baggins! Of course, let me show you the way.”

Bilbo almost corrected her, seeing as he wasn’t a doctor anymore, but he decided against it, knowing it would only start a line of bothersome questions. She led him over to the lift and took him all the way to the top floor, pointing to the end of the hall.

“Doctor Greyhame’s office is the farthest door. He’s expecting you.”

Bilbo smiled at her in thanks as she closed the lift and descended back downstairs.

“Of course he is.” He said mostly to himself.

Before he could even raise his hand to knock, he heard Gandalf’s booming voice from within telling him to enter, so he pushed the door open and walked in.

Gandalf was sitting behind a huge wooden desk with a large tome in front of him. The rest of the desk was covered in similar tomes and large books, as were the shelves. The wizard had his short wild hair slicked back and his long beard trimmed to a point. He was wearing a simple white shirt with a black jacket, looking horrifyingly ordinary. Of course, Bilbo then noticed the obscene blue, yellow, red, black, and orange plaid tie the man was wearing, and remembered that nothing about Gandalf was ever ordinary.

“Good morning.” Bilbo said by way of greeting, drawing the wizard’s attention. He smiled and closed the book he was reading, taking off his glasses.

“Indeed it is, my friend. I’m so glad you made it.” He said as he stood and gave Bilbo a hug. The hobbit returned the hug easily, having become accustomed to Gandalf’s affectionate nature. The wizard released him and motioned for him to sit in the chair in front of his desk.

“You know why I’ve called you here so I’ll get straight to the point. I fear I’m nearing the end of my rope with this particular individual. It’s almost as if he’s immune to treatment.” Gandalf sighed wearily, pushing forward a file before lacing his fingers together on his desk. Bilbo opened the file and read the information inside, noticing the lack of photo immediately.

‘Thorin Oakenshield. 48-year-old male Dwarf. High security patient. Suffers from severe anger management, almost-constant hallucinations, and delusions of the mind.’

Bilbo nodded, closing the file and sitting back.

“You know I’m no good with mental patients. I’m a trauma doctor, Gandalf. Or I was. What could I possibly do for him?”

Gandalf smiled, shrugging.

“I think you’ll figure it out when you meet him.”

Bilbo’s eyebrows shot up in surprise when the door opened and the receptionist stood waiting for him. He hadn’t expected to be meeting this ‘Thorin’ so soon. He thought he would have time to look over the file a few more times and plan a course of action. It all sounded like he was going to war, but when it came to dwarves, Bilbo had learned to always be prepared.

With one last look at Gandalf’s smiling face, Bilbo followed the receptionist back to the lift. On the ride down, he turned to her.

“I’m sorry but I didn’t catch your name.”

She smiled at him.

“Arwen Rivendell. My father Elrond is a doctor here.”

The lift doors opened and yet another elf was standing outside the doors, seemingly waiting for Bilbo as well.

She was gorgeous. Her long silver-blonde hair seemed to shine, and her soft blue eyes were as piercing as they were friendly. She wore an Alice blue hospital coat over a flowing ankle-length white dress that showcased her tall thin form.

“You must be Doctor Baggins.” Her voice was like the wind. Bilbo blinked before extending his hand.

“Bilbo, actually.”

Did everyone know he was coming today?

“Pleasure to meet you, Bilbo. I am Galadriel Lorien. I’m the head of group therapy. I’ve been asked to show you around.” She smiled and started to walk away, leaving Bilbo to follow behind her.

The main lobby was connected to the common room through two sets of locked double doors. Galadriel unlocked them both and led Bilbo inside. There were patients of all races inside, some of them watching TV, some playing games, and of course, some who were simply sitting and minding their own business.

“Welcome to the common room.” Galadriel said, her smile growing as one of the patients grabbed onto her sleeve.

“Miss Lorien, may I have some jelly?” The elderly man asked. His large blue eyes were focused on her thin hand as he turned it over and over in his own calloused hand, studying it. The elf chuckled.

“Not just now, Radagast. You know jelly time is after dinner.” She patted his arm and he let her go with a smile.

“Then may I go outside?”

She nodded and he quickly got up and approached one of the orderlies, who took him by the arm and led him through another door. Galadriel smiled fondly after him.

“What a character that one is. He used to be a brilliant wizard, but his mind hasn’t been right for a long while now. Gandalf was the one who checked him in, and as long as he gets to sit outside for a couple hours each day, he’s okay. Nature is his escape.”

She continued walking, stopping behind a couch. Two people sat on the couch and another sat in a chair across the coffee table with a book in his hands. They looked like dwarves to Bilbo, based on their beards, broad frames, and short almost buzzed hair.

Dwarves had long ago stopped growing their hair and beards, seeing it as a traditional thing saved for special occasions, such as weddings and monumental birthdays. It was a sacred ordeal to braid and bead ones hair and beard, and often times the dwarf in question had to grow their hair and beard out in advance.

Just as their long and exotic hair and beards easily distinguished the ancient dwarves, the modern dwarves were notorious for short buzzed hair, both men and women. Longer beards were more accepted the older one got, and although it wasn’t required, it was seen as a sign of wisdom and experience.

The older dwarf had a black and white beard, which had two braids started in it already, and thick black hair. One of the younger dwarves had strawberry-blonde hair and bright blue eyes, and the other had dark brown hair and brown eyes.

“What are you three up to?” Galadriel asked, making the two younger dwarves jump. They spun in their seats with huge smiles on their faces, arms linked through one another.

“Nothing.” They answered simultaneously. The older dwarf grunted, shaking his head. The elf raised an eyebrow and held her hand out. The two dwarves looked at one another and with a sigh, placed the pieces of the board game they were playing into her palm.

“I’ve told you that you are not allowed to play with the board games. Don’t pout, you know exactly why.” Galadriel’s voice was firm as she pocketed the pieces. They hung their heads.

“We know.” They said.

“Entschuldigen Sie, aber wer ist das, Miss Lorien?“ The older dwarf spoke, surprising Bilbo by speaking in dwarvish* and not the common tongue.

“Bifur wants to know who that is, Miss.” The blonde dwarf pointed at Bilbo. The brunette nodded vigorously.

“Yea, who is he, Miss?” He asked. Galadriel smiled.

“This is Doctor Baggins. He’s here to work with Thorin.”

All three sets of eyes turned to Bilbo and widened.

“Good luck.” The brunette said.

“Kili.” Galadriel sighed.

The younger dwarves snickered while Bifur rolled his eyes.

“Why don’t you two run along and watch the telly? Go on now.” She said, accepting the hugs she got from them both. They wandered off arm in arm to sit on the couch next to another dwarf, giggling. Bifur went back to reading the book he had in his hands.

Galadriel waited until they had walked away before she spoke.

“The twins, Kili and Fili. On top of a rather troublesome case of kleptomania, they have a frightening case of separation anxiety. They are always touching in one way or another, and any attempt to separate them ends in catastrophe. When they first arrived, we tried to get them to sleep in different rooms as a way of trying to wean them from one another, and both of them experienced extreme panic and wouldn’t calm down until they were in each other’s arms again. Their kleptomania is mostly managed,” she smiled, patting her pocket with the game pieces, “but we still haven’t been able to get them to be independent yet.”

Bilbo nodded. Separation anxiety was common in twins, but that was mostly when they were younger. Kili and Fili looked to be in their early twenties, so the anxiety was very strange indeed. Even now as the hobbit looked at them sitting on the couch, they were arm in arm, sitting thigh to thigh, moving in sync as they had when they had been playing with the game. Galadriel speaking got his attention again.

“The older Dwarf is Bifur. He sustained a serious head injury and has since been unable to speak in any other language but dwarvish. It also caused him amnesia that likes to come and go.”

“The blonde one, Fili. He could understand him.” Bilbo said. Galadriel nodded.

“Kili and Fili were raised in a very privileged family. They both learned dwarvish as young boys. Fili practices regularly so he serves as an unofficial translator for Bifur. Kili unfortunately is more… free-spirited you could say, and as a result skipped many of his lessons and has since forgotten most of it.” She chuckled, making Bilbo chuckle as well.

They ventured through another set of double doors and Galadriel showed Bilbo the pharmacy, infirmary, and other procedure-specific rooms. They were then led to a single door that required a key that was different from the other keys.

“We keep the more troubled patients through here. It’s our high security ward.” Galadriel explained as the door clicked and swung open, revealing a long white hallway with many doors on both sides. A door at the end on the right had its light on. The rest of the rooms surrounding it were dark, presumably empty.

Galadriel stopped in front of the door, turning to Bilbo with a serious expression.

“He does know you’re coming, but don’t be surprised if he responds negatively. You’re basically a new character in an old story to him so give him a little time to adjust. Don’t let his attitude bother you too much.”

That made Bilbo a little nervous but he didn’t get a chance to voice his feelings because Galadriel had opened the door.

The room was very spacious, more spacious than Bilbo really thought was necessary or safe. There was a bed on the left side with a single barred window over it. There was also a comfortable-looking chair sitting in the corner. The walls were a gentle shade of green while the floor was covered in white and blue tile. The use of color therapy to promote positive feelings was smart, especially if Thorin was as dangerous as his file implied. Speaking off which, Bilbo’s eyes were abruptly drawn to the center of the room.

Sitting in a less comfortable-looking chair was Thorin.

The straight jacket he was wrapped in was chained to the chair, which was in turn bolted to the floor.

The dwarf was wearing a plain black t-shirt and heather grey pajama pants with black socks. His black hair was customarily buzzed short and his beard was just as black, only just starting to grey around his lips. His broad shoulders were slightly hunched and he had his chin to his chest, his long legs shoulders-width apart in pseudo-relaxation. Thorin didn’t need to be standing up, or even sitting up straight in this situation, for Bilbo to tell that he was very tall, taller than most men. That fact was extremely surprising to the hobbit.

Dwarves and hobbits used to be very small. In fact the average hobbit used to be half the size of a man, earning the (somewhat unsavory) nickname ‘halfling’. Like much of the world, both races changed in many ways since the time of the ancients. Dwarves had grown more height-wise than the hobbits, but even with that development, most adult dwarves were fortunate to reach 5’11”.

Galadriel entered the room, removing her hands from her pockets.

“Thorin?”

The dwarf didn’t answer, only continued his deep breathing, his eyes closed and his chest heaving slowly, making the chains click together quietly with the movement.

“Thorin.” Galadriel tried again, leaning down to try and look at the dwarf. No luck. She straightened again and sighed.

“He does this sometimes when he really wants to get away. You know, retreats into his mind. It’s usually when we put him in the jacket, which he views as punishment. Sometimes I can get him to come back but most days he just stays away, not returning until the next day.”

Bilbo frowned a little.

“He puts himself into a trance?”

Both doctors jumped when the body in the chair sharply inhaled and his eyes snapped open.

Bilbo considered himself to be very polite, but as soon as the dwarf opened his eyes, Bilbo was staring.

It might have been his imagination, but he was pretty sure that Thorin’s eyes had been white for a split second before they turned a light shade of blue. It was probably just his pupils reacting to the bright light in the room, Bilbo reasoned, trying to calm his fast heart rate.

Bilbo was an appreciator of beautiful things, and Thorin had the most beautiful stormy grey-blue eyes he had ever seen. God, what a gorgeous color. They were staring out at him from under the shadow of the dwarf’s furrowed brow, as focused as the gaze of the great eagles. It made the hair stand up on the hobbit’s neck.

“Thorin, are you with us?” Galadriel asked softly. Thorin stayed focused on Bilbo.

“Who have you dared to bring into my room?”

The man’s deep velvety voice made Bilbo’s goose bumps increase tenfold. Despite being restrained and basically wrapped in chains, the dwarf had strength and authority rolling off of him in waves.

It didn’t seem to worry Galadriel as she smiled patiently. Then again she was probably used to it by now.

“This is Doctor Baggins. I told you yesterday about him coming by, do you remember?”

Thorin didn’t answer, his eyes roaming over Bilbo’s face, making the hobbit’s skin prickle.

“He’s here to help you.” Galadriel said, drawing Thorin’s gaze instantly. His already narrowed eyes narrowed further.

“I don’t need help.” He growled. Bilbo almost sighed out loud. This was going to be interesting he could already tell.

“Of course not.” Galadriel soothed, still smiling as she then turned to Bilbo.

“I’ll leave you two to get acquainted then.” She swept out of the room. The door shutting sounded thunderous in the large room. Bilbo was left alone with the temperamental dwarf, who was still glaring at him, although the intensity was less scathing.

The ex-doctor dragged the extra chair over so that he could sit in front of Thorin, but not too close of course. The man’s legs weren’t bound which made kicking a danger. Bilbo sat down and ran a hand through his spiky blonde hair, more than sure that he messed it up somehow, before putting both his hands in his lap, watching Thorin carefully. Getting a read on him was proving to be difficult. Thorin’s eyes were like steel doors, not betraying anything.

Finally Thorin sat up a little straighter, already looking far taller than Bilbo, and raised his eyebrow a fraction, his icy eyes flickering to Bilbo’s ears.

“You’re a hobbit.” He said flatly.

“And you’re a dwarf.” Bilbo immediately replied, giving him a tiny smile. “Glad we’ve got that established.”

The hint of a smile Thorin gave him told Bilbo that he was headed in the right direction. Bilbo had assumed Thorin would want someone to challenge him to prove that they were worth his full attention.

“Who told you to come see me?” Thorin asked, cocking his head.

“Doctor Greyhame called me a few days ago. He asked me to come and be a consult.”

“Why.”

The dwarf looked curious now although he tried to hide it behind a frown. Bilbo shrugged, spreading his hands.

“I have no idea. Apparently you’re trouble.”

Thorin’s smile returned and he dipped his chin, shadowing his eyes again. To be perfectly blunt, the expression made him look like he truly belonged in the institution.

“Is that so?”

Bilbo nodded. Thorin shifted forward in his seat, the straight jacket stopping him from getting far to Bilbo’s relief. He still had that somewhat-manic smirk on his handsome face.

“This building is my mountain, the people inside are my subjects, and I am King.”

“So you’re the king of the mountain.” Bilbo said lightly, not expecting the dwarf to scoff at him.

“You wouldn’t know this being from the outside, but my proper title is Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain.”

“Because you’re on the bottom floor?”

“Yes, I thought that was obvious.” Thorin said, sitting back in his chair with a haughty look. Bilbo smiled. He definitely had his work cut out for him.

“If you’re the King, then why are you chained up?” Bilbo asked, playing along. Thorin growled, looking vicious.

“Because my kingdom has been taken over by a fierce dragon. Smaug the Terrible. He keeps me chained in here so that I can’t defy him, the coward.”

Just then, the door clicked and swung open and Thorin’s entire expression darkened, turning to stone like a gargoyle at sunrise. Bilbo turned around in his seat.

Standing in the doorway was a tall (though not as tall as Thorin) man with bright ginger hair and blue eyes**. They seemed almost bioluminescent in the room’s light. His hair was slightly curly and longer on the top, his bangs in a stylish curl across his forehead. He wore a simple blue suit with a dark blue tie and a white shirt. He looked surprised to see another person in the room besides Thorin.

“I’m sorry but you can’t be in here without a pass. Who are you?” He said slowly, looking at Bilbo with interest. His voice was an even deeper pitch than Thorin’s voice. Bilbo was beginning to think that he was the only person left with an average-pitched voice. The hobbit stood and extended his hand.

“Doctor Bilbo Baggins. I’ve been asked in as a consult for Thorin by Doctor Greyhame.” Bilbo was getting rather tired of explaining his presence. ‘Perhaps I should get a sign that says I have Gandalf’s permission to be here’, he thought sarcastically. The ginger man’s eyebrows went up and he smiled.

“Ah so you’re the hobbit I’ve been waiting to meet. I’m Doctor Adrithan Goldwing. I’m Thorin’s primary caretaker and therapist.” He looked over Bilbo’s shoulder at Thorin, whom was no doubt still glaring at the ginger doctor. The man returned his attention to Bilbo and swept an arm out.

“Shall we step outside?”

Thorin sat up straighter, his eyes wild. Bilbo gave the dwarf a glance, making eye contact, before starting to follow. Thorin’s panicked voice followed him outside.

“Don’t listen to him, hobbit! His words are poison! He--”

The rest of what he said was lost as the door shut. Adrithan chuckled.

“Quite the handful isn’t he.”

Bilbo chuckled along. Thorin’s words rang in his ears, making him feel irrationally uncomfortable.

“He’s definitely interesting.”

“Has he told you about his mountain yet?” Adrithan said, slipping his hands into his dress trousers. Bilbo nodded, crossing his arms.

“Yea he told me. Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain. He says he was locked away down here by a dragon.”

The doctor started laughing.

“So he’s already told you about me. Marvelous. He usually saves that story for later.”

Bilbo didn’t like the man. Not one bit. Something about him just didn’t sit right on the ex-doctor’s conscience.

“You’re Smaug the Terrible?” He asked, keeping his tone light and his smile present. Adrithan nodded, running a hand through his hair.

“Regrettably. It’s an awful name isn’t it? I would have preferred Smaug the Magnificent, or Smaug the Golden or something, but no. I get Smaug the Terrible.” He chuckled. “I’ve concluded that my orange hair and my last name led him to create this dragon persona, since dragons are famously orange or red in the myths and legends, and my last name is Goldwing, which sounds very dragon-like, wouldn’t you agree?”

Bilbo simply nodded, making a noise in his throat, feeling the growing need to get away from this strange person. The fact that he was only partially sure that Adrithan was a man, and not some other kind of man-like creature, only added to his discomfort. Adrithan’s eyes were too unnatural a color to be the eyes of a man, his skin too smooth, his voice mildly hypnotic. Hell, Bilbo couldn’t even tell how old he was, though if he had to guess, he was younger than both Bilbo and Thorin. Then again, that elf Arwen looked very young and she was probably centuries older than Bilbo…

“Anyways,” Adrithan said, pulling a watch from his pocket and checking it. “I do apologize but I’ve got to run. I just came down to see that you two have met, and of course to see that his Majesty was behaving himself.”

Adrithan joked about Thorin’s condition too much. It was rude, not to mention unprofessional. Everything about him made Bilbo uneasy. His mind was screaming at him to get away.

“I’ll be gone the rest of the week so, should you choose to stay, he’ll be in your care—“

“I’m staying.” Bilbo replied quickly, keeping his jaw set when Adrithan quirked an eyebrow.

“Alright. He’ll be in your care for the rest of the week and the weekend. I’ll be back on Monday if everything goes accordingly, Tuesday at the absolute latest. Think you’ll be okay with this one?” Adrithan pointed to the door and Bilbo felt his hackles raise.

“I used to be a trauma doctor. I’ve seen worse than dwarf kings and their dragons, I assure you. I can manage.” He smiled thinly. Adrithan returned the smile easily and extended his hand, shaking Bilbo’s hand firmly.

“Then I’ll go ahead and take my leave. Oh, almost forgot.”

The man slipped a hand into his jacket and pulled out a set of keys and an ID card, handing them to the hobbit.

“See you soon, Doctor Baggins. I look forward to working with you.”

With that, he was down the hallway and out the door before Bilbo could look at the card in his hands.

“Doctor Bilbo Baggins. Clearance: High Security Ward. Of course Gandalf knew I would stay.” Bilbo sighed with a smile, pocketing the card before unlocking Thorin’s door and going inside. He stopped short when Thorin’s furious eyes pinned him in place.

“You should not have gone with him.” The dwarf growled at him, his voice seeming to fill the entire room like smoke. Bilbo simply raised an eyebrow and closed the door, sitting down in front of the angry dwarf once more, careful not to cross his arms so as not to shut himself off from Thorin. He didn’t want to further antagonize him.

It didn’t take a medical expert to tell how incredibly irate Thorin was at that moment. He looked like he was trying to burn a hole into Bilbo’s face with his eyes, which were wide with rage, his arms straining against the sleeves of his jacket, leaning forward as far as he was allowed.

“Now he’s infected you with his lies.” Thorin said, sounding equal parts disappointed and downright pissed off. Bilbo considered this for a moment before responding.

“What is it that you think we talked about?” He asked, keeping an open expression. Thorin seemed to pause.

“You spoke of me.”

“Of course.”

“He told you that I was crazy.”

The way Thorin spat the word made Bilbo physically flinch.

“Actually no. The only thing he said was that he didn’t like the name you gave him.”

Thorin’s expression changed from rage to confusion so quickly that Bilbo was worried that he’d give himself whiplash.

“He feels it doesn’t suit him.”

“It does so suit him, the snake.” And back to anger. Bilbo actually chuckled, causing Thorin further confusion.

“Yes he is quite like a snake, isn’t he? Doesn’t deserve to be a dragon in my opinion. Despite the horrible things they’ve done, dragons are very magnificent creatures. Nothing like snakes at all.” Bilbo felt extremely satisfied when that ghost of a smile crept onto Thorin’s face.

“What did you say your name was?” Thorin asked slowly. Bilbo smiled.

“Bilbo. Bilbo Baggins.”

“And where are you from, Bilbo, Bilbo Baggins?” Thorin’s voice had a teasing tone so Bilbo safely assumed that his anger at Adrithan was fading, at least for the moment.

“Hobbiton, the main city in the Shire district. I moved to Erebor when I was twenty to become a doctor.”

Thorin sat back in his chair, watching Bilbo carefully.

“Why did you become a doctor?”

Goodness the dwarf was full of questions. Bilbo was of course happy to answer, and before he knew it, the sun was just beginning its descent into the west. Thorin was still a little tense, and God help him he was still in that blasted straight jacket, regardless of the fact that Bilbo had said that he didn’t need it.

“It’s only your first day here, Doctor. It’s best not to judge Thorin based on your first meeting. Take it from me, he’s better off in the jacket.” One of the nurse elves had said to him when he had asked about the jacket, smiling sadly.

Obviously something had happened that forced Thorin to remain in the jacket at all times, save for when he was sleeping and when he was at therapy with Galadriel, but Bilbo knew it was not his place to inquire, so he had simply nodded and returned to Thorin’s room, ignoring the way the dwarf flashed questions at him with his eyes, never actually voicing his concerns.

It soon came time for Bilbo to leave. It was almost dinnertime. Bilbo could hardly believe it. He had spent the entire day talking to Thorin, and yet he felt like he had learned next to nothing about the other male. It made him slightly annoyed, but he also felt intrigued, and he knew if he had to blame anyone (because he couldn’t blame Thorin really), he would blame Gandalf. The wizard knew him so well. He knew how to get his attention. Give Bilbo Baggins something (or someone) who was nothing short of a puzzle, and his Took side would show up willingly. He’d be stuck. And that’s what Bilbo was; stuck.

Bilbo was stuck on Thorin and the universe that he’d created inside his head, stuck on what the hell Adrithan Goldwing’s problem was, stuck on the idea of being a doctor once more, even if it was a different kind of medical field. He was in deep already, and it was only the first day.

“I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow.” Bilbo said, standing and feeling various parts of his skeleton crack from sitting for so long. Thorin looked confused, cocking his head like a bird.

“You’re coming back?”

“Yes.” Bilbo tried to not make it sound like a question. Thorin continued to watch him, the gears turning in his head.

“Why?”

Bilbo sat back down with a smile.

“Let’s mix it up a little and have me ask you a question this time. Did you enjoy speaking with me?”

The dwarf narrowed his eyes in suspicion, so Bilbo decided another approach was necessary.

“How about this; to whom do you prefer speaking? Myself or Dr. Goldwing?”

“You.”

The response was so fast and earnest that Bilbo actually laughed.

“Alright then, that’s all the answer I need.”

He stood again, feeling a bright pair of eyes on him as he retrieved his jacket from the back of his chair and pulled it on.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then, yes?” He said, raising his eyebrows at the dwarf who, after a moment nodded.

“Good.” The hobbit unlocked and opened the door but paused, turning back to find Thorin still staring intently at him.

“I suppose I should shake your hand but given the circumstances…”

The comment had come out accidentally (for the most part) and Bilbo almost started to apologize when something amazing happened.

The stone that was Thorin’s face cracked and formed into a real smile, making the corners of his eyes crinkle. Bilbo tried not to think about how it seemed to get warmer in the room. Thorin didn’t give him a response, only gave him a small chuckle that seemed to bubble up from deep within his chest, and then nodded. His smile didn’t even fade when Galadriel poked her head in the door to check on him before leading Bilbo back to the main entrance.

“He was smiling.” Galadriel said, the wonder in her voice catching Bilbo’s attention.

“Is that… good?” Bilbo asked, not prepared for the warm smile Galadriel gave him.

“Yes. Extremely. We consider ourselves fortunate to get a smirk from him these days. It seemed like Thorin would be here for the rest of however long he was alive, but then in walked Doctor Baggins.”

Bilbo blushed to the tips of his ears, not used to such praise.

“I only made a small joke.”

“Most doctors here are afraid to make jokes within his immediate vicinity, much less actually make one directed at him.”

Bilbo shuffled his feet. Galadriel put a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“I don’t know why, but Thorin has chosen to trust you, and I hope with all my heart that you can help him do the one thing no one else could get him to do, Bilbo.”

“What’s that?”

“Move on and let go.” The elf said, squeezing his shoulder before letting go and sweeping away, her dress flaring out like a flower when she turned. Bilbo watched her go before stepping outside and catching a cab home, Galadriel’s words playing on a loop in his head, right along side Thorin’s slow smile.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we have chapter two. :) Hope you guys enjoy it!! I am so terribly sorry you had to wait so long. The ending sounds a bit odd to me so I do apologize. I did everything I could to get it to sound right. :|

The rest of Bilbo’s Wednesday was spent thinking about what he had seen at the hospital and how he could do his best to help Thorin. He could admit that when he had first met the dwarf, he had been very sure that there would be no helping him. However, after meeting the strange Doctor Adrithan Goldwing, well. He quickly changed his mind about trying his damnedest.

When Thursday rolled around, Bilbo felt better prepared to talk to Thorin than he had the day before. He grabbed a cab and headed to the hospital, a small smile on his face. Despite his initial anxiety about returning to the field, it did feel good to be back.

His smile quickly faded however when he actually walked inside the hospital and Arwen waved him over to the desk, a grave expression on her face.

“I’m sorry Doctor Baggins but I don’t think you’ll be allowed back to see Thorin today.”

“Why? Has something happened?”

His question was answered seconds later when Gandalf’s voice came over the speakers.

_“All available personnel to the high security ward immediately please.”_

Bilbo gave Arwen one last look before he walked through the institution, ignoring the eyes that followed him. When he arrived to the ward, Galadriel met him at the door, smiling regardless of the worried look on her face.

“Doctor Baggins. I’m glad you’ve come. We couldn’t reach Doctor Goldwing at his conference.”

Bilbo tried not to bristle at the mention of the other man, straightening his spine.

“Someone want to tell me what’s going on?”

Galadriel’s smile fell and she motioned for the hobbit to follow her. Even before they reached Thorin’s door, he could hear the dwarf’s shouting, followed by what sounded like things being thrown about.

“He’s in a most terrible mood I’m afraid. One of the nurses had gone in to put him in his straight jacket and he went off the wall. No one knows what set him off.”

“Perhaps nothing did, although I’d wager the jacket had something to do with it. May I go in?” Bilbo asked, meeting Galadriel’s eyes.

“You want to go in…?” She asked hesitantly, watching Bilbo as he reached for the door. He didn’t answer her as he unlocked the door and slipped just inside, keeping his back to the door behind him.

The room was a mess. The mattress had been dragged off the bed frame so that the frame could be flipped, the pillow and sheet had been thrown haphazardly on the floor, and Thorin’s chair was lying against the wall opposite of Bilbo, obviously having been thrown. The heavy chair that Bilbo had been sitting in yesterday was currently in Thorin’s grip, hoisted high above his head.

The dwarf’s face was red in rage, his bared teeth making him look absolutely feral, the veins standing out in his neck. Seeing him standing up at his full height made Bilbo want to melt into the door in hopes that he might not be spotted. The hobbit felt extremely small in Thorin’s presence. Typical of dwarves, Thorin was a massive being. Broad shoulders, bulging arms, and thick muscular legs, and on top of that, his unnatural height made Thorin quite the frightening image when he was angry.

The dwarf seemed to falter at the sight of the hobbit in the room, but it was only fleeting. His anger returned quickly.

“You…” He said, his voice nothing more than a growl. Bilbo raised his hands innocently, not yet approaching.

“Raus hier. Sofort!” Thorin hissed, lifting the chair higher like he meant to throw it. Bilbo may not have learned many dwarvish words, but he knew when he was being threatened.

“Heard you were having a bad day. Thought maybe I could help.” He kept his tone light, his face open. Confusion flitted across Thorin’s face and he lowered the chair again, holding it in front of him.

“What could you possibly do to help, hobbit?” He spat, the snarl still pulling at the corners of his lips.

“That depends.”

The dwarf didn’t answer, only narrowed his eyes, so Bilbo dared to speak again.

“How angry are you right now, Thorin?”

Thorin shifted uncomfortably, his eyes flitting around the room, never really landing on any one thing.

“Can you tell me?” Bilbo asked, his voice still soft. Thorin’s eyes caught his for a split second, but they quickly returned to looking everywhere but at the doctor. After waiting and not getting a response, Bilbo tried again.

“How about this. On a scale from one to ten, how angry do you feel?”

Thorin finally looked at him, his blue eyes bright as he thought.

“… Seven maybe…” He mumbled, shifting the chair in his hands. Bilbo let his own hands drop to his sides.

“That’s a pretty high number. Why is that?”

Some of the rage came back to Thorin’s face, making him hold the chair tighter. Bilbo was almost sure that he heard it start to creak under the dwarf’s white-knuckle grip.

“I don’t want to wear the jacket.”

Bilbo nodded, hoping Thorin would speak more. After shifting his weight restlessly, Thorin looked at him again.

“They tried to put that jacket on me, and I don’t want it.” He said, his voice starting to get strained again. Bilbo kept nodding.

“Alright. If I tell them you don’t want or need the jacket today, would you put the chair down and talk to me for a little while?”

The chair slipped from Thorin’s hands with a thud (blessedly missing his bare toes) as shock blossomed across his face.

“You can do that?”

Bilbo smiled at him, nodding. Thorin blinked rapidly, still seemingly processing the information before turning around to get his own chair, setting it down and sitting with his hands in his lap, staring at Bilbo expectantly.

Bilbo slipped back outside and found Galadriel staring at him. He raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

“How on Earth did you do that?” She asked, a hand resting on her chest. Bilbo kept his eyebrow raised in question.

“No one has ever been able to calm him down that fast, not when he gets like this. We usually have to let him calm down on his own before we even enter the room.”

Bilbo shrugged.

“Well that’s the problem, isn’t it. You don’t bother to find out why he’s angry, or what you could do about it. Speaking of which, I don’t want him back in that straight jacket today.”

Galadriel’s expression hardened.

“I don’t believe that’s your call, Doctor Baggins. Doctor Goldwing left specific instructions regarding—“

“Yea well Doctor Goldwing isn’t here, now is he.” Bilbo snapped, staring at the elf and trying not to lose his temper. He took a calming breath before continuing.

“He left me in charge while he’s gone this week, so as Thorin’s acting doctor, I say no jacket today.”

Galadriel didn’t budge, keeping her chin raised just so.

“Look, I mean no disrespect,” Bilbo continued. “But I was called here to help Thorin, and that requires talking to him. I cannot talk to him if he’s upset, and he gets upset about that damn jacket, so he’s not to wear it today.” Bilbo said firmly, keeping eye contact with the woman in front of him. The silence stretched for a beat longer before the ice in Galadriel’s eyes melted and her body relaxed.

“Very well. I’ll let the nurses know. However, do keep in mind that if anything happens, it will be entirely your fault.” She warned not unkindly. Bilbo nodded his understanding.

“Thank you, Doctor Lorien.”

“Galadriel please. Everyone else calls me that.” She said softly, walking away without another word, leaving Bilbo very confused. He had never really understood elves and their mood swings. When he reentered Thorin’s room, the dwarf was exactly as Bilbo had left him; sitting obediently in his chair with his hands in his lap. Bilbo noticed that the bigger chair had been turned around to face Thorin, so he smiled and sat down.

“So I’ve spoken to Doctor Lorien,” he said. “And you won’t have to wear the jacket today.”

Thorin didn’t react but the straightness of his spine did seem to uncoil just barely so Bilbo smiled.

“So. How’s your anger now? Give me a number.”

Thorin’s brow furrowed.

“Do I have to?”

“Yes.”

“Five.”

Bilbo sat back and laced his fingers together, watching the dwarf that was watching him, and trying not to squirm because of it.

“That’s still a bit high. You’re not in the jacket, so what is it that’s still bothering you?”

When Thorin didn’t answer, choosing instead to look at his hands, Bilbo sat forward and attempted to catch Thorin’s gaze. When their eyes finally met, Bilbo smiled, drawing a sigh from Thorin.

“Even if I don’t have to wear that thing today, they’ll make me wear it tomorrow. I know they will.”

Bilbo nodded, not sure how to respond to that at first. He couldn’t promise Thorin that he wouldn’t have to wear the jacket, because let’s face it, he was lucky Galadriel let him get away with it today. He’d probably have to have a damn good excuse to get Thorin out of it for another day, so he went with directing the line of questioning away from the subject of ‘having to wear the jacket’.

“What about the jacket makes you so upset? Aside from the fact that… Smaug… makes you wear it all the time?” Bilbo tripped over himself for a moment trying to get the name out, but he was glad he said ‘Smaug’ instead of ‘Doctor Goldwing’, because Thorin perked up.

“Aside from that?”

“Surely you’ve got another reason?” Bilbo said. Thorin wrinkled his nose but answered nonetheless.

“It’s restricting. Sometimes they tighten it too much and it hurts. I tell them that it hurts but they won’t loosen it but a small bit.” Thorin suddenly smiled that feral grin of his, where he gazed out from under his eyebrows.

“The people here, they’re all afraid of me, you know.” The dwarf’s voice was deep and almost whispery. Bilbo swallowed the lump that had begun to form in his throat. Whether it formed because of Thorin’s voice or due to the fact that the dwarf just admitted that he was in pain often, he didn’t know exactly. He shook his head.

“I don’t think they need to be really.”

“I do.”

Thorin’s quick answer shocked Bilbo. The smile was gone now, replaced with an intense stare. Thorin’s stormy blue eyes were drilling into the hobbit’s skull.

“And why’s that?” Bilbo asked. Thorin shrugged.

“I’m dangerous.”

Bilbo frowned slightly.

“Are you saying that because it’s true, or because they told you it was true?”

Thorin faltered, his eyes flitting around again before he righted himself, sitting back in his chair.

“Both.”

“You believe you’re actually dangerous.” It was meant as a question but it came out of Bilbo’s mouth as more of a statement, something his questions tended to do quite frequently. Thorin lifted a brow just enough to come off as sarcastic.

“Were you not here just moments ago when I threatened you with the very chair you’re sitting in?” He asked flatly, making Bilbo chuckle.

“Yes I was.” He chose not to mention how scared out of his mind he had been, more for Thorin’s benefit than his own desire to save face in front of the dwarf.

“Was that not proof enough for you?” Thorin asked, slumping further in his seat. Bilbo ran a finger over his bottom lip, as he often did when he was thinking.

“I don’t think a single display of anger makes you dangerous all the time.”

“You’ve only seen one example.”

“You’re trying to validate the fact that you’re dangerous. Why?” Bilbo finally asked. Thorin didn’t answer, choosing instead to cross his arms over his chest and look at the ceiling.

‘And there’s the infamous dwarf stubbornness…’ Bilbo sighed to himself.

“You don’t want to answer me?”

Thorin simply twitched a muscle in his mouth, looking at the wall now. Bilbo ran a hand through his hair. Thorin’s eyes were on him immediately, causing him to jump.

“You’re frustrated.” Thorin said. Bilbo was thrown momentarily before he regained his poker face.

“Just a bit, yeah.”

“Why?”

Bilbo almost felt guilty. Thorin’s face was blank but his eyes were wide open. Curious. Maybe a hint of fear? Fear of what? Disappointing someone? Being disappointed himself?

“… Can I be honest with you, Doctor Baggins?” Thorin said, mimicking Bilbo’s position, crossing a leg over the other and lacing his fingers together. Bilbo motioned for the dwarf to go ahead.

“I thought for sure that you wouldn’t come back today.”

Bilbo looked perplexed.

“Why would you think that? I did say that I would be back.”

“Most people who say that are lying. They don’t come back.” Thorin said simply, not sounding like he cared either way. His expression was deceptively blank. Bilbo shrugged.

“I came back. What does that say about me?”

“You’re stubborn.”

“That’s rich coming from a dwarf.” Bilbo smiled when Thorin chuckled, nodding his head slowly.

“Well said, Doctor.”

A small silence ensued before Bilbo spoke again.

“So is it safe to assume that we will not be discussing your label of ‘dangerous’ any further?”

The look Thorin gave him was enough. He nodded and sat back with a sigh.

“Then what shall we talk about?”

The dwarf once again remained silent, looking around the room. Bilbo nodded.

“Shall we postpone our talk for today, since you’re not feeling very talkative?”

Thorin glanced at the hobbit again, a confused look on his face.

“I was surprised to see you for another reason.”

“Hmm? What’s that?”

“Usually when I… ‘act out’, as they call it, they send Smaug in.”

Bilbo’s stomach clenched at the mention of the other doctor and he sniffed.

“I’m sure that calms you right down, doesn’t it.”

He was being unprofessional and he knew it, but he couldn’t help it. It was his job to keep his patients safe, and he felt that Dr. Goldwing was not a safe person to have around Thorin. It was almost like the man didn’t take the dwarf or his mental state seriously, and when dealing with mental patients, doing that was a huge no.

“You don’t like him, do you.” Thorin said, cocking his head. Bilbo chose his words carefully.

“His methods are… questionable. So yes, there’s something about him that I don’t particularly like.” He said, shrugging. Thorin continued to watch him with those haunting eyes of his, smirk on his lips.

“I like you, Doctor Baggins.” He finally said. Bilbo smiled at him.

“You’re not so bad yourself, and I do think if we work with one another, we’ll both be better off.”

The dwarf seemed to consider his words before extending a hand palm up, smirk still on his lips. Bilbo grasped his forearm while Thorin grabbed the hobbit’s forearm, the customary dwarf gesture of trust and promise. They had a long road ahead of them, and they both knew it. Might as well start off on the right foot.

**Author's Note:**

> * I chose to use German as my ‘dwarvish’ language because I speak it fairly well and it has that gruff tone that I imagine dwarvish has as well.
> 
> ** ginger-haired Benedict Cumberbatch. That’s all you need to know. XD


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